


One Who Conceals the Badger

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dysphoria, Guns, He's back, I dont know anything about the army, M/M, Trans Brock, asexual jack rollins, girly girl to manly man Brock Rumlow, more dialogue, only a little bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:02:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William had no interest in letting him think about apparently, as he’d already started telling people that Calypso Rumlow wanted to be a man.<br/>He lost a lot of friends in a very short amount of time.<br/>He lost his job. And his apartment.<br/>He wasn’t the prom queen anymore. Wasn’t the pretty girl your older brother dated in high school.<br/>He was scared and alone, homeless now. And he couldn’t even deny it. Couldn’t say William was just a spiteful ex. He was right. Calypso Rumlow was a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Who Conceals

Over the years, Brock had managed to read all the books, go to all the support groups, and when internet became accessible, he read that too. He was convinced for a while that yeah, something was wrong, but it wasn’t _that_. He wasn’t like them, their stories didn’t match. Some people said it was gradual, they’d slowly started to notice that something was wrong, or they’d always known. But he wasn’t like that. He’d woken up one morning, nineteen and living with a girlfriend of his, looked in the mirror, and said, “That’s wrong.” 

“What’s wrong?” Caroline said, leaning into the bathroom. He shook his head a little.

“I dunno. Something.” He frowned.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” she said, laughing when he threw a towel at her. 

“You’re a bitch. I’m gonna take a shower,” he murmured, turning the shower on hot and stripping.

 

It had been a light switch, from Callie to… not Callie. He didn’t know what was wrong, why he wanted to tear out his hair and why he felt like he was holding his breath, suffocating in his own body. Maybe he was sick. Maybe his lungs were collapsing or his stomach lining was burning off. That was more plausible than anything else he could think of, which mostly went something like a self-aware body snatcher. That’s what it felt like. He could barely look in the mirror without being disgusted and he’d never been like that. He loved his body, it was nice and curvy and his olive skin was always smooth. His hair was long and shiny, but he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t like it.

 

He changed six times, did his hair four different ways, and washed his face over and over. He ended up in jean shorts and a t shirt, hair tied back, which was the only thing he could stomach and still wear to work. He came out into the kitchen where Caroline was reading the paper and put the bread in the toaster.

“Maybe you should try losing weight,” she commented without looking up. “Not that you’re fat, but my aunt just lost a bunch of weight and she says she feels like a new person.” He nodded a little. 

“Yeah, maybe. Skinny girls are the thing now, too, right? Should keep with the times,” he hummed, frowning a little. Girls. He felt disconnected from the word, but it almost hurt to hear.

“Lose some weight, get a boyfriend, you’ll definitely feel better.” Not-Callie nodded. Maybe.

 

He did lose some weight, more than ten pounds over the next month. He got a boyfriend, which didn’t last long, but still. He finally talked to William, an ex from high school who was majoring in psychology. Caroline got his number and he called him.

“William? Hi, it’s Callie.” He didn’t like that name. He’d never liked Calypso. The two –o sounds in Calypso Rumlow sounded wrong, but Callie had been fine until recently.

“Oh, hey, Callie,” came William’s voice over the phone. “Didn’t expect to hear from you.” He could hear dishes clinking in the background.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no. What’s up?” He took a deep breath.

“I think I’m sick.”

His explanation was long and repetitive and full of William saying, “Mhm,” and his pen scratching on paper and ended with, “I’ll call you back when I know, alright? Take it easy.”

 

The next day, he woke up and got dressed, grabbing his purse and walked to the hair salon. He smiled when he walked up to the front desk.

“Hi, Selena,” he said kindly. Selena was the Taiwanese woman who’d been doing his hair since he was twelve. “Can I just get a quick cut?” The woman nodded.

“How much were you thinking?” Selena asked, sliding her the sign in sheet.

“All of it.”

 

He left the salon feeling lighter than he had after he lost ten pounds.

 

Another few days and William called back.

 “Hey, Callie. I think I know what’s wrong with you,” he said.

“Thank God. What is it?”

“Well, I was talking to a guy in my class and he said his cousin felt the same way as you before they sent you to the mental ward. Said she wanted to be a man.”

“I… I’ll think about it.”

 

William had no interest in letting him think about apparently, as he’d already started telling people that Calypso Rumlow wanted to be a man.

 He lost a lot of friends in a very short amount of time.

 He lost his job. And his apartment.

 He wasn’t the prom queen anymore. Wasn’t the pretty girl your older brother dated in high school.

 He was scared and alone, homeless now. And he couldn’t even deny it. Couldn’t say William was just a spiteful ex. He was right. Calypso Rumlow was a man. He ended up enlisting a few towns over and shipping out. Everyone was doing it.

 He was pretty and he could do as he was told, his superiors liked that. A lot.

 

He remembered when the SHIELD recruiters came, picking their handful out of the ones who’d made it through basic. Alexander Pierce was there, the Secretary of Defense. He walked up and down the line, eyeing each of them as they stood at attention. Not-Callie stood out. He was shorter than the rest, by quite a bit, at 5’4”, 5’5” in boots.

"What’s your name?” he asked. Pierce was handsome, in an older guy kinda way.

“Rumlow, sir.” He’d been working on making his voice sound a little deeper lately, and it was, since he was yelling all the time. Pierce smirked.

“Think you’re a man or something, sweetheart?” He spit on Pierce’s face.

 

He got picked anyway.

 

 

By the time he got to the ‘SHIELD’ basic, he’d already been filled in it was really Hydra.

His first day was as most first days, full of idiot tough guys trying to prove themselves as the alpha male. He’d gotten to sit up front on the drive to the base, chatting with the driver. The driver’s name was Brock, an ex-marine. He was 6’3”, head shaved covered in tattoos. He was missing a hand, said he lost in when it got crushed in a vice. He listened to the stories and flirted easily, all the while mulling the name over. Brock. That was a man’s name alright. He smiled at Brock as they all unloaded, catching something one of the men mumbled. Slut. He whipped around and grabbed him by the ear, threatening to rip it off as he pulled the over six foot man down to his level.

“Say it again, fucker,” he spat

“I said.” He winced. “Slut.” He slammed the guy’s head against the side of the truck a couple times. He heard footsteps come up behind them and glanced over his shoulder, then back. Superior officer. He waited to be told off, but it didn’t happen. The man simply walked up next to them and raised his eyebrow.

“I see everyone is getting acquainted.” He had an accent. Florida, maybe Georgia. Brock smirked a little, still holding the dazed man by the ear. 

 

He could feel that name in his heartbeat, could see it in his reflection in the man’s eyes.

Brock-Brock-Brock-Brock-

He saw the officer hold a gun out to him. An offering. He could get used to it here. He took the gun and blew the guy’s head off, spattering himself with blood.

He was the alpha male now.


	2. The Badger

Brock quickly became a favorite in the camp. He was better, by sheer force of will. And if he wasn’t better, he got better. But he was erratic, emotional. He’d lash out or keep to himself out of spite. People got hurt when he got frustrated.

Rollins was in the cot next to his and he was nice, he was. In a ‘make you a drink and then poison it’, kinda way. Brock liked him. He was strong and steady, powerful and in control. Brock liked to watch him sometimes, liked to watch him walk or fight or even shower, as creepy as that was. He was a solid man. He started to mimic his stride.

Brock was at the end of the line of showers, Rollins three up from him. The others had left, but Brock was still trying to get the blood out from under his nails from crawling at Jackson’s neck earlier. He barely heard the man walked over, and didn’t look up until he was being grabbed by the throat and slammed up against the tile, about a foot off the ground. He grabbed at Rollins’ strong hands, trying to claw his way free, but the taller man was having none of it.

“Stop staring at me,” he growled. Brock hadn’t been staring at him prior to this, but Rollins had probably been thinking about it. “I’m not interested.”

“Why?” Brock gasped. “Queer?” Rollins’ eyes narrowed and he squeezed once.

“Something like that. Tell anyone and I’ll tear your lungs out.” He dropped Brock, who slid down the wall and fell on his ass. He coughed and reached up to turn the water off.

“If it helps,” he rasped, coughing as he looked at the closed glass door. “M’not a girl.” Rollins snorted.

“Yeah?” But he didn’t seem to be judging him too much. “We’ll see.”

 

When they were alone, Rollins often had more questions. They stopped clashing the more they understood each other. Rollins became Jack and Rumlow became Brock. They were a seamless unit and no one seemed to want to separate that. Their superiors didn’t care as long as they did their shit. They started fucking at some point- sort of. Jack wasn’t into sex, but he didn’t mind fingering Brock. He’d climb into Jack’s bed after most were asleep and Jack would get his huge hands down there and it was great.

“Fuck, Jack,” he panted, grinding down against his fingers, groaning until Jack clamped his mouth shut with his other hand

“God, you’re so loud. Shh. Relax,” he murmured back

Then the lights were on and Jack pulled his fingers out so fast it hurt, but little else could be done for their situation. Brock slipped out of bed, although not subtle enough, but it didn’t matter. Someone clamped their hand over his mouth and grabbed him from behind and he saw the same was being done to Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it wasn’t just them. Well, that was probably good. He was gagged and a bag put over his head, wrists ziptied. He kicked wildly as he was dragged outside and thrown in the back off a van. Another body was pressed next to his. More people were loaded up.

They drove for two uncomfortable hours. It was warm in van and some dick was resting a gun right on his thigh. Classy. When they got there- wherever _there_ was -everyone got hustled up as they were led from an outside to an inside. He wanted to fight. He wished he could see. He felt them be lined up and the bags were pulled off their heads. It was bright in the room. Alexander Pierce was standing there, leaning on a desk across from them, smiling faintly. Jack was right next to him, managing to pull off the kidnapped-in-boxer-briefs look.

“Gentlemen.” He looked right at Brock. Fuck. “You are the group of individuals selected to be the commanders and seconds of the six most elite teams in Hydra, and therefor SHIELD. Congratulations."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only split them up cause I thought it looked more dramatic. I am a sham.

**Author's Note:**

> People complimented me on my writing, so I'm a little more confident. This wasn't as detailed as I'd like, but I feel pretty good about it. I really like trans Brock, he's a lot of fun to write. This title came from that 'Calypso' means 'one who conceals' and Brock means 'Badger'. Alternate title: FUCKMYLIFE666.


End file.
